


We Carry With The Friends We Made

by commanderclarke



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: End of the World, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Infected, Lots of Angst, Major character death - Freeform, More angst, Murphy is a Little Shit, Pining, Post-Apocalypse, Slow Burn, The 100 - Freeform, The100AU, Zombies, but it’s like the last of us, somewhat graphic scenes, tlouau
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:48:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26484421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commanderclarke/pseuds/commanderclarke
Summary: Clarke and Murphy meet during an unexpected mission to find a cure to a world they grew up in. But when they’re faced with a long journey ahead of them, with their friends and new strangers coming along the way, they have to learn to work together.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Gabriel Santiago, Bellamy Blake/John Murphy, Bryan/Nathan Miller, Clarke Griffin/John Murphy, Clarke Griffin/Raven Reyes, Monty Green/Harper McIntyre, Octavia Blake/Raven Reyes
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	1. the stories told are all we know

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to make an important note first. For anyone wanting to follow through with reading this, I’m putting this warning here now. I love the concept of this fic and don’t intend to drop it, but I’m in university for my first year and also have a job, along with other small hobbies that occasionally take up my time. As well when I do get around to writing my editing process of the chapters can be fairly slow, so just saying now that the wait between chapters may seem long at times, and I apologize in advance for that. But most chapters will be quite long (anywhere from 3000-5000 words). But other than that, I hope you guys consider staying and enjoy this fic. I’m excited to finally release it!!
> 
> as well it’s gonna start a little slow, just to get everything sorted out and eventually lead into the better stuff.

Murphy had seen a lot in his life. From the way infected tore into the soft flesh of his friends. Or his father who was strung up like a rag doll and hung for all to see. His mother drowning in her own vomit after the incident.

He had seen just about everything the shit world had to offer. Since the day it broke out, nearly thirteen years ago.  


However, this he hadn’t seen.

Bodies stretched across the dock, wrapped in a thin cloth that had mostly been blown off from the weather.

The further Murphy’s eyes travelled, the more it continued. Rows among rows, bodies so close together you couldn’t see where one finished and the next started. They filled up the long dock, barely any room to walk on either side.

He wasn’t sure what it was or why they were there. Or even how long they had been there. But from the smell and lack of skin covering their bones, it definitely had been awhile.

The one thing he was certain of was that he did not want to fuck with whoever did this. 

“Holy shit.” He heard a rough voice come from behind and he turned, watching as Bellamy, his closest friend made his way next to him. He stared at the line of bodies as Murphy had done, shifting uncomfortably with the gun in his arms.

“You think they were ones from before? Like in the beginning?” Bellamy asked after a moment, his curiosity growing the longer they stood there.

“Wouldn’t the bodies like, disintegrate by now? Is that how it works?” Murphy answered, uncertainty laced in his tone. Bellamy only shrugged, leaning down to get a better look at an uncovered body.

He dug his hands through the pockets, coming up with nothing useful. Only a few coins and an unreadable note addressed to someone named Diyoza. He moved onto another one. Just to check. That’s what they always said. Even if they knew they wouldn’t find anything good.

Murphy sighed, spinning around. The building they had just scavenged looked more eerie, every passing thought of what could have gone on there flooding his brain. 

Everyone heard stories about the first few days and months and even years when everything started. Regardless of who you were with, you almost always had someone who was old enough to remember the beginning.

People panicked. They ran and hid. They tried to be the hero of their own story. Only to die trying. People turned on each other, leaving the people they loved to rot because they were scared.

The hospitals were all hit first. The infected went there for tests to figure out just what was happening. They collapsed fast. With the infected turning more quickly and growing stronger. It was kept under control for such little time, that anyone who had been holding onto any sort of hope had it crushed.

That’s what Murphy had been told. After all, he was barely four went it all started. 

“Nope, nothing,” Bellamy spoke again, standing to his feet. “We should head back anyways. It looks like a storm is going to hit again.”

Glancing to the sky, Murphy noticed a looming black cloud heading in from the south. He nodded and dragged his stare away from the building, following Bellamy up the path that led them back to the street.

“So,” Bellamy pondered, “There have been some rumours going around that Sanctum is going after The Phoenixes.” He pushed back the shrubs in the fence, allowing Murphy to crawl through. 

Murphy did so and pulled the fence back on the other side, waiting for Bellamy, “isn’t there always? Every other month one of them goes off on how they’re going to attack. They rarely ever do.”

“I think it’s serious this time.”

“Well if it is then I much rather stay out of it. That’s was us Reapers do best, right? We stay out of things we can’t win,” Murphy said, taking his rifle in hand once Bellamy was through. 

Bellamy, pulled his gun back to his front, “I guess.”

They began to walk down the street, Murphy balancing along the faded lines on the street, “I just don’t want to get involved, we know better than anyone what happens when a war between them breaks out.”

“We’re far enough away, we should be good.”

Bellamy said, his voice slightly wavering. He cleared his throat, pretending that it didn’t happen and hoping Murphy hadn’t heard him.

But he did. 

He glanced towards Bellamy, noticing how tense his shoulders were and the strong grip he had on his gun, his knuckles turning white. Murphy kept quiet after that, turning back to watch where they were going. Passing old houses and shops, small patches of trees and avoiding the few infected.

They listened to the winds whistling and their feet dragging along the concrete, the clouds moving in the same direction as they were.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it now. The Phoenixes and Sanctum and what they would start if they went after one another.

Murphy was terrified of what could happen. And he knew Bellamy was too. The only other time anything big between the two groups did happen, it resulted in both of them losing just about everyone they knew and loved.

They were scattered across the country, trying to find a way back to their families. Or what was left of them. For a while, it was all they knew. Running for their lives. 

It was another big change for Murphy. After ten years spent behind the walls that kept the infected out, he hadn’t really known how to fight.

For months on end, he met and lost people. He had to learn how to survive on his own without his family and without his group. He was alone.

That’s when Murphy found The Reapers.A group of outcast, people who had to abandon everything they knew. It started small but grew quite quickly.

It still wasn’t as large as some of the other groups, or hell, even some of the cults were bigger, but he had finally found somewhere safe.

They took in people who didn’t have a place to go, giving them a chance at survival that they wouldn’t have had on the outside. 

That’s where he met Bellamy. And Monty. And Gabriel, Octavia, Monty and Jasper.

They were his family. They were all he had. 

“Hey, up ahead,” Bellamy whispered, tugging Murphy to the ground. He heard the talking before he noticed a group of men blocking the street. They were loading large containers into a truck, a symbol all too familiar to go unnoticed.

“Look,” Murphy pointed to the box that a tall, well-built man was carrying. Bellamy’s brows came together as he saw it too. The infinity symbol that marked everything in Sanctum was stuck on the side.

“You believe it now?” Bellamy asked, turning so he could rest his back on the wall. Murphy sighed, shrinking down next to him.

The people of Sanctum being this close to The Reapers camp was a sign that they were definitely in trouble.

As much as they were good at hiding camps, moving in packs when things came too close, there were still things you couldn’t avoid.

They had men. Lots of them. And they were strong. 

Murphy pulled his pistol out, counting seven bullets. He cursed to himself. If it came down to it, if they broke out a gunfight with these guys, he was fairly certain they’d lose.

He put his gun back, glancing at Bellamy, “We need to get past them.”

“I know.”

“There’s a lot of them though,” Murphy continued, looking over the wall again. 

“I know,” Bellamy said. He tapped his knee repeatedly, staring at the street they just came from.

“Like a lot, a lot.”

“I know Murphy, okay, just...shut up for a second. I’m thinking,” Bellamy snapped. He grits his teeth as his thoughts overwhelmed him.

“I’m just saying,” Murphy mumbled, turning around to watch the men. They didn’t show any signs of slowing down. Murphy counted each one that came out of the building. One. Two. Three. Four.

_ That wasn’t so bad. _

Three more walked out, and another two hopped out of the truck. Nine in total. Murphy gulped down his fear. They were screwed, weren’t they?

“We’re going to have to fight them,” Bellamy concluded, loading his gun and then throwing it over his shoulder. 

_Yeah, they were definitely screwed._

*****  
  


Clarke knew the risks. Clarke knew what could go wrong and probably would. But that didn’t stop her from feeling the way she did. 

It was one sentence that kept bringing the feeling up. The tightness in her chest, ragged breathing when she thought of it. It also didn’t help that everywhere she looked, she saw their faces. 

In the window of the bookshop, a cup of coffee placed next to a pile of books, one already opened in her hands. Harper would smile at her as Clarke passed by. 

Behind the fences of the gym, lifting a heavier weight that even she couldn’t lift. Just to prove her point. Indra kept to herself but would strike up a conversation when Clarke came up. 

On the street, kneeling on the ground to pet one of the dogs just one more time. Clarke could so vividly see Miller giggling as the dog jumped up at him. He would act like nothing happened the second she walked up. 

She saw their faces in the parks, in the streets late at night. She saw them in medical. At the gates. She saw them everywhere. 

She couldn’t get rid of the memories that came with their faces as she crossed the road, finally making it to the front gates. 

She would do this for them. To see them one last time. In the library and the gym and the park and hell, even in medical. Anything if it meant they were alive. 

She had to do this. For them. For her family. 

_ Sanctum took today’s Runners. _

She repeated it to herself once more before confronting the guys at the gate. “Riley, hey, when are we heading out?”

She tightened the strap on her bag, waiting for him to respond.

She was met with silence.

“Riley,” Clarke said slowly, raising her eyebrows. He held his breath and bit his bottom lip, not knowing what to say.

“Clarke, we’re not-“ Riley faced the others, silently begging for help. They immediately turned the other way wanting to avoid confrontation with Clarke.

He took in a long breath, repositioning his grip on his gun, “we’re not going anywhere.”

Clarke stared at him. No expression giving him any indication of what she was thinking.

Clarke blinked a few times, trying to process what he was saying. “What do you mean?”

“We’re not going-“ Riley began to say only to be interrupted by Clarke.

“No, I heard you,” Clarke said, eyes narrowing at him as she went on, “our people are out there, possibly even dead by now. We need to help them.”

“Look, we were given our orders. If you don’t like them, take them up with your mom.” Riley concluded, turning to face the outside again. He eyed her for a few seconds before she stormed off.

Of course, this was her mother’s doing. Why wouldn’t it be? Their friends and family were out there and she  _wasn’t_ sending out a crew to look for them? Was she insane?

Clarke’s chest rose more quickly, her thoughts running wild with what to say. But really, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. There was too much to say and so little time to do so.

She wanted to yell and scream and tell her she was doing her job wrong. She wanted to charge in there and say that she was going to do this, without her say. She wanted to beg and plead with her to just send out a team to look for them. To bring their friends back home. 

And then she got there, and the words died on her lips as she watched her mother walk from the living room to the island in the kitchen. The blueprints and files sprawled across the surface.

“Are you going to say something or just stand there?” Abby questioned, eyes not daring to turn away from her work. Clarke’s lips parted, a frustrated breath escaping.

“You’re gonna let them die.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. No matter what excuses her mother made, that’s what she was doing. She was letting them die by the hands of their enemies while they sat high on their thrown, safe behind the walls.

“It’s not safe out there right now. I’m not sending more people out just for them to get killed. Okay? As Runners they knew the risks,” Abby responded, writing down a note for herself. Clarke stepped up to the counter, placing her hands on the ledge as she pressed her lips together.

“But you’re fine with them dying? Indra. Miller. Harper. They have families, people who want to see them again.”

“Clarke,” Abby started, finally tearing her eyes away to look at her daughter, “just drop this. I’m not going to argue with you.”

“Why? Because I’m right,” Clarke taunted, tilting her head and keeping direct eye contact. She knew exactly where to hit, what would get her mother going.

“Clarke-“

“No. We can do this the right way, without anyone else getting hurt but you aren’t even willing to try. You just want to leave them. Those are my friends, our people, mom. Why aren’t they worth it?” Clarke’s voice wavered, her defences faltering only for a moment before she lifted her chin back up. She wasn’t going to look weak. Not now.

“Clarke, enough. They will be fine. As I said, they knew what they were getting into when they signed up to be Runners, alright?“ Abby echoed her earlier words. She focused her gaze back into her work, ignoring the exasperated sigh Clarke let out.

“You’d do it for me. You’d do it if I was the one out there,” Clarke said, her voice softer than it was before. Abby just shook her head, going to tell her to drop it yet again but was interrupting when the front door swung open.

Kane stepped through and looked at the two women. “Jackson needs you in Medical.”

Abby sighed and nodded, rolling up her notes and placing them off to the side. 

“So?” Clarke spoke again stepping in between Abby and the door. She hoped that her mother would just give in. That she would send a team out. That she would realize that leaving them to die was wrong. Even if people died getting them back.

But a part of her knew the answer. She knew what her mother would say. And she couldn’t handle that.

She could deal with the chores and taking care of the kids. She could deal with working and the long boring hours in medical, both her mom and Jackson talking her ear off. She could deal with all of that, but the aching inside of her chest grew stronger at the thought of leaving them out there. Of never seeing them again.

She didn’t want to lose anyone else.

“We can talk about this later.”

Abby collected her things and headed for the door, saying her goodbyes to Kane and then heading off to medical.

Clarke shut her eyes, hands gripping the island as her teeth dug into her bottom lip.

Kane stayed standing by the door, hands by his sides as he watched Clarke,” Was that about today’s Runners?”

Clarke chuckled to herself then turned to him, “was it obvious? Or am I just predictable at this point?”

“You care about everyone. There’s nothing wrong with that,” Kane offered her a smile, going to open the door, he paused for a moment to think, “just...don’t get worked up over it all. Things will be okay.”

With that Kane left, leaving Clarke alone in the silence of their kitchen. She cursed her mother, sinking down to the ground, not able to shake the thoughts that crowded her head.

They were going to die. 

And she was going to have to be okay with that.

She would have to accept it. Because, though she didn’t want to admit it, one small voice kept trying to squeeze its way to the front of her head. It hid in the depths of what she considered the unthinkable or untouchable. She didn’t dare spend a second longer on those lingering thoughts.

But the truth was that it was there, and it was probably right.

They’re probably already dead. 

*****   
  


Clarke eyed every person who entered the town hall, dressed up for the night. Laughing into the night sky as their friend cracked jokes. They kept coming, dishes in hands and stories to tell. 

The tradition felt spoiled now. 

Clarke once had been apart of the crowd. Dressed up with Miller in her arm. Only until they got in, that’s when he would wander off to find Jackson. She would be left alone to mingle with everyone. 

Harper tended to drag her away from a seat she had gotten comfortable in to dance with her and the others. She would tell her she didn’t want to, only to have Harper to tell her to shut up. 

Clarke would eventually give in, dancing to songs that came and went. Surrounded by her friends. Those were nights that she felt the happiest she had in a long time. 

But tonight she felt sick. Miller wasn’t there to tell her about Jackson (despite her knowing him just as much as him). Harper wasn’t there to dance and sing, and nearly throw up her dinner from doing so. 

So Clarke stood and watched, leaning up against a pole as everyone pushed their way through the doors. A smile etched across each of their faces. 

She was there for a while, arms over her chest. It wasn’t until Kane came up behind her, quiet enough that no one else would hear, but loud enough not to startle Clarke. 

He waited a moment before speaking. “Come with me.”

Clarke pushed off the pole, following close behind him. He led her to a building on the far right side, walking in through the side door and going into the garage. There he pulled out a bag, a rifle and a holster with a handgun. 

“What is this?” Clarke questioned. She stepped up to the workbench, taking the gun in her hand cautiously. 

The last time she held one had been months ago. She was apart of the Runners and had been miles away from camp. Wells was attacked, one of the infected sunk its teeth into his neck, ripping him apart in front of her. 

She shot him in the head before he could turn. After that, she only used a gun when needed, but with staying back at camp, she never really had to. 

“I put everything you’ll need for at least a week. Water canister, a few protein bars and cans of food. Some ammo,” Kane explained, opening up the bag to double-check that everything was there. 

Clarke placed the gun down onto the bench, peering back up to Kane. “But for what?”

“Your mom won’t send out a group, and she’ll kill me when she finds out I gave you this. But I want them back too,” Kane admitted and pushed the bag towards Clarke. 

She hesitated, but grabbed the bag and threw it over her shoulders. Clarke then attached the holster to her and grabbed the rifle as well.

Clarke held onto the strap against her chest, revelling in the familiarity of having a bag on her back and gun on her hip.

There were a million reasons why it was wrong in the way she felt when she wore them when she turned the gun over in her small hands. She felt powerful.

But then she would think back to the days when they were on the run, the things they had to do to survive. Clarke couldn’t get those memories out of her head, no matter how hard she tried. 

She looked at Kane, “she’s gonna notice I’m gone.”

“That’s why you have to leave now. You’ll have until midday tomorrow when you’ll be expected in medical,” Kane said, walking to the other side of the garage and pulling out a map, “she won’t realize right away, she’ll just think you’ll late, but by then you should be long gone. I’ve marked down the fasted route in this map.”

He unfolded it and lied it on top of the bench. He traced the route with his finger, stopping where Sanctum was circled. “You should be pretty far by that time. Travel through the night as much as you can. That’ll make some room between you and the group she’ll send out.”

Kane stopped, folded the map back up and handed it to Clarke who shoved it into her bag.

“What about tonight? Mom will realize I’m not home,” Clarke mentioned.

“Right. Almost forgot. I’m going to tell her you stayed at Gaia’s,” Kane said. He walked past Clarke, opening the door back to head back inside. 

“What if Gaia decides to go out? Mom will ask her,” Clarke responded, tilting her head up at him.

“I told her what I was doing and asked if she could just stay in. She agreed,” Kane concluded, ushering Clarke to step through.

They made their way back to the front door of the dark house. It was a worn-down house that no one wanted to claim. It was often a hangout place for some of the kids. Or where teens came to have a little fun.

“Be careful, okay?” Kane put his hand on Clarke's shoulder, stopping her from opening up the next door. She nodded and smiled before he pulled her into a hug.

Clarke froze for a mere second before relaxing into his grip, nestling her head against his shoulder. It always shocked Clarke when he did these simple things. Hugs or a hand on her arm, or even just a smile from the other side of the road.

It was strange to her. To have someone as a father figure after her own father passed. But Kane was right there, easy and respectful of Clarke's space in the beginning, but always there for her nonetheless.

Clarke pulled away, spinning back to the door and pulling it open, “I will, and I’ll bring them home.”

They said their final goodbyes, Kane remaining her to stay safe yet again (and to keep hydrated and to eat) and then Clarke went down the path hidden behind the older shops and houses. 

She weaved in and out of the trees, staying close to the walls. She stared into the sky, the moon high above, lighting up her way as she stumbled through the grassy narrows to one of the shorter parts of the wall.

This was it.

The minute she was on the other side, everything would be different. Not just because she’d be in the open, or because she’d be potentially in danger.

Her mother would find out. She would send someone to find her. Or many someone’s. And if she wasn’t far enough she would be dragged back home and would never know what happened to her friends.

She would have to live with the fact that they died.

Clarke craned her neck up, eyeing each level of where to place her foot, to where she would rest atop the wall and then throw herself down onto the other side.

She had to do this.

She wouldn’t die knowing she could have done something.  _Anything_.

She hoisted herself up, hands gripping each ledge, one foot up and then another. Her gun clattering lightly against the metal in front.

As she reached the top, she put a leg over and sat there. The darkness engulfed the rest of the buildings and forested areas they had blocked off, Clarke’s stomach suddenly dropping.

But she had to do this. She had to.

She jumped from the wall, letting out a groan as she stood back to her feet, wiping away the dust and dirt that sprung up onto her jeans.

It was going to be one hell of an adventure. That was one thing Clarke knew for sure. 


	2. the fear of thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys !! sorry for the delay in an update, as i said im in university now and also have been dealing with a lot but im coming up on christmas break soon so im going to try and get at least another or two chapters done and publish them at some point. this chapter is still a bit slow for plot but my plans for the next two will basically be bringing everything together and start moving things along. anyways i hope you guys all enjoy it and feedback would be amazing :)

Murphy had thought he was pretty strong. Or maybe he was just strategic when needed to be. And maybe that was good enough. Maybe it wasn’t. Regardless, he had gotten out of most situations like this.

Whether that was sneaking around, avoiding it at all costs. Going in head first, taking out the few people he could and then picking off the rest. Or of course, the most logical one, quietly taking each out.

He thought about what they could do.

Avoiding it wasn’t an option. They were far too close to camp to just ignore them and go about their day. Eventually, these people would find where they were staying and most likely kill them all. Even with how well they patrolled the area, they would never stand a chance.

Then, of course, the second option. Attacking them head-on. That also wasn’t an option. The number of times Bellamy recounted the bullets on his right reminded him of that. They would never win.

That left them with taking them out quietly. Which of course, was the best solution. But sometimes Murphy enjoyed the thrill of the fight, his adrenaline kicking in as he went into survival mode. 

Bellamy was with him though, and he wasn’t going to risk his life.

“Look,” Murphy nudged Bellamy, his eyes straining to see two men standing at the furthest side of the street, hidden between two buildings. “I can get over there and take them out, you go around that side and take care of the few over there. That brings us down to,”

Murphy paused, counting on his fingers, “the four in the truck...if we don’t alert them.”

Both of them quickly agreed, knowing this was the only choice they had and went their separate ways. Bellamy made his way down the wall towards a bush, crouching next to it. Taking in a breath, Murphy moved around the corner.

The two he was going after were standing behind two short containers, hands resting on their guns as they talked. They talked like there was no care in the world.

Like the world hadn’t ended.

They just laughed, cracked jokes, barely moving while their friends packed up their truck that was fifteen feet away from where he was crouched.

Something about their carelessness pissed Murphy off.

It was as if they couldn’t be touched, they acted as if surviving was nearly a back thought.  _Well, screw them_.  Murphy only knew survival, he only knew what it was like to lose everything you cared about, no time for grieving because all there was in his life was surviving.

But the Primes? The people in Sanctum? They had it all. Right from the start. Every kid got to grow up there with no thought of what it was like on the outside.

They had it all, and yet they started wars. And it never seemed to affect those they were targeting, it was always the groups passing by. The families who were trying to make it day by day, keeping their kids safe. Their sisters and brothers safe. Themselves.

They didn’t care about anyone other than themselves.

Without another thought, Murphy moved through the overgrown shrubs that scattered the cracked road. His heart pounding against his chest, the voices of the men becoming louder.

He inched closer, his stomach dragging across the ground, with the abandoned truck on the road as his only cover. From what he could see, one of the men wandered into the building on the right, leaving the last one on his own. 

Murphy took a sharp breath in, pausing in the grass behind. He had one chance. One chance to get up behind him and take him out without anyone noticing.

Glancing around, he pushed himself off the ground and hurried around the barrier. The man was turned away. The perfect opportunity for Murphy to grab him, snap his neck maybe. Maybe slit his throat. His choice.

He chose.

He lunged up at the man, wrapping his arms around his neck, dragging him down to the ground and making sure to cover his mouth. Murphy waited. He waited until he wasn’t struggling anymore when the life faded away and his body was limp and dropped the man to the ground.

Murphy peered into the building that the other had gone into. All of the doors were blown off, the windows shattered, glass spread across the floor.

He carefully, crawled through the window, avoiding the shards of glass as he moved around. It was a shell of what used to be a store. Aisles thrown around, long emptied of what they use to hold. Moss and weeds grew from every cracked edge the walls had.

For a split second, he was distracted by the thought of what the place would have looked like before. Parents coming in to grab a few things after work. Kids with their allowance, buying more candy then they needed. Teenagers stealing whatever they could, in hopes of not getting caught.

He shook his head of those thoughts that always caught him off guard and moved around one of the aisles, grabbing an empty bottle from the ground. He stopped and watched the man make his rounds in the store, paying just enough attention for Murphy to know he couldn’t mess up.

When he made his way towards the back, Murphy glanced at the door that led back to where the man he took out was lying. And with a tight grip on the bottle, he tossed it through, shifting the guy's attention. He called out to the other that he got it and then went to inspect. Just as Murphy had planned.

With a few seconds of patiently waiting for him to be out of view, Murphy did the same thing as he had done previously. Dragging the guy to the ground by his neck, his hand over his mouth as he quietly killed him. Every breath that didn’t reach his lung filled Murphy with more adrenaline. And even pride, in a weird, fucked up way.

Once he was sure that the man wasn’t going to wake up any time soon, he set him down next to the other. Both hidden in the long shrubs.

Murphy peered over to the truck and watched. One of the shorter ones called out, announcing that they would be back. Sanctum needed them. Three of them got in without an answer while the driver's suspicions of the quiet got the best of him. 

Within seconds of him wandering around the truck, heading off towards the bushes, Murphy heard a low grunt and the sound of a body fall.  _Bellamy_.  Then slowly each man got out, going in either his or Bellamy’s direction, where they took them out too.

Bellamy crossed the road, some more ammo for their guns. “We really should head back before it gets too late.”

Murphy nodded and glanced up. The dark slowly taking over the days blue, cloudless sky. He caught a raindrop in his eye, a few more dropping onto his jacket.

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

*****

They continued their journey back to camp, drenched from head to toe as the rain came pouring down around them. No signs of stopping, but they couldn’t wait it out, so they went on.

“Oh come on, don’t be such a pussy,” Murphy laughed and pushed Bellamy off the road, not stopping until he heard a quiet huff from behind him. When he turned, Bellamy had his arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh stop acting like that,” Murphy rolled his eyes, turning back around. With a frustrated sigh, Bellamy followed. 

“It’s not that easy,” Bellamy answered. His face dropped as he thought about it, about him. Murphy didn’t know much about loving another person who wasn’t family, or a friend.

He had only really loved one person. And it was hell.He did everything for them. Opened up and gave them everything. But it ended the same, just as most things had ended in his life. With death. Slow torturous death. He promised himself he wouldn’t let himself get hurt like that ever again. He couldn’t afford heartbreak in a world like that.

So he tried to reach deep down into a part of him that existed a century ago to respond. “I mean, you’re thinking too much into this.”

“I just,” Bellamy brushed his wet curls out of his face, letting out another sigh. “What if he just doesn’t feel the same way?”

“He does. You just can’t find it in yourself to believe it,” Murphy answered. There was a moment of silence as they came upon a side road that leads them to their camp.

“I don’t know, maybe you’re right.” 

Following the path down, they pushed through the shrubs and branches that blocked their way, finding themselves standing in front of the makeshift gates. “Of course I’m right, I always am.”

Murphy grinned, causing Bellamy to shove him down the muddy path. He started to slide, his balance uneven. Reaching up as he began to fall, he grabbed onto Bellamy’s jacket, taking him down with him.

“Aw come on,” Bellamy laughed, wiping the mud away from his face. He slowly made it back to his feet as Murphy continued to laugh, not able to stand. He just rolled around, his jacket no longer a dark blue, but brown.

“Get...get up,” Bellamy snorted, watching the boy below him, “you look like shit. Literally.” 

Murphy snorted and pushed Bellamy’s outstretched hand away in favour of crawling to his feet. Not before sliding around a bit more. “Okay, okay, let's just get back to camp.”

Their laughs belted out into the evening, not able to control themselves now that it started. But as they neared the makeshift gate, Murphy’s thoughts wandered. 

It was pathetic really. Their gates, their camp. Compared to the places they had seen before. They were just a small group with barely enough people to help with these kinds of things. So they dealt with what they had and called it a day.

It was all they could do.

“Oh thank god you guys are back, we thought they might have taken you too.” Monty ran up to them from the other side. Out of breath, he leaned through the bars. What was left of their amusement faded away, turning into both fear and worry.

“Too?” Bellamy questioned. He shared a confused look with Murphy.

“Gabriel. They said they needed him. I’m not sure what for, but they barged in-“

“Who?”

“For what?”

The two boys said in unison. Monty continued to ramble, explaining what went on when they were gone. Bellamy’s worried look didn’t go unnoticed. Murphy saw, and it twisted in his gut.

“The primes. Sanctum. I’m not sure what for, or how they found us. But they did. They must have been looking for him since he left them. But we tried to stop them, but of course, it’s Gabriel...so he said to let them take him-“

Murphy spun around, trying to find an opening, another path,  _ anything _ that could have exposed them to the Primes. But there was nothing. And even if there was, they were always on top of those things. Careful to not let others in.

Someone must of let them. Told them. It was the only explanation he could find.

“Okay, it’s okay. We’ll go after him. Get him back. Open the gate, we need to stock back up. Sanctum is about, what,” Bellamy peered to Murphy, “two days walk, four if we go the long way.”

Monty nodded, allowing them through, though Murphy was still distracted. The forest was dense. Wired fences lining the outskirts. Traps to kill whatever made it through, and to warn them something was out there.

He spent endless nights watching. Staring out into the distance, sometimes with Bellamy. Sometimes with Gabriel, or Monty, or even Octavia. Every night someone was watching. Someone was paying attention. To keep them safe, to avoid what happened before.

There was a traitor among them, and they very well could still be inside their walls. 

“Octavia, Dax, Graham and Jasper went out already. To get a head start,” Monty said, fidgeting with the sleeves on his jacket. The two followed him down to the med tent and supply store, “I know you wouldn’t want her going out...but she wouldn’t stay. No one could keep her.”

Bellamy nodded, now even more worried, but he understood why. Gabriel was their people, proven to always be loyal. Jasper too. Most of them showed in some way. And others didn’t need to prove it, you just knew they were.

The others though, had to prove they deserved a spot. Had to prove that they were one of them. Murphy was relieved for a moment, sure that the traitor was no longer inside these walls.

Only they were with Octavia and Jasper. Leading them to sanctum, to the people they had helped. And that was most definitely worse.

They had to get to them quickly.

Once they made it, Monty pushed open the door, pausing when Murphy spoke. “Hey wait, we need to make this quick.”

“That’s kind of what we’re doing Murphy,” Bellamy replied. They went through the door snd headed to the back room. Monty handed them some canned goods, ammo, and then a new jacket after clearly seeing the mud streaks across Murphy’s front and back.

“No, I mean we need to get there before Octavia and the others, or find them first.” Murphy took his jacket off and swung it over a stool.

Monty and Bellamy eyed each other before Bellamy put down a gun he picked up to examine. “What do you mean?”

“There’s no way they found us on their own. And even if they did we would have known, we always keep track of that. How did they get through the countless amount of traps? Or the fences?” Murphy explained his thoughts from earlier. After a moment to process it, to really think about what he had said, Bellamy had decided Murphy was probably right. 

“I think that Dax and Graham had something to do with this,” Murphy finally stated as the silence around them became overbearing.

“Alright,” Bellamy checked the contents in his bag before swinging it over his shoulder, “then let’s get the hell out of here.”

  
*****

Clarke kept her head low. Crossing every clearing she came by, each covered by a blanket of darkness.

The rain had started shortly after she left, the drops sliding off her nose onto her jacket. It just kept coming as she walked. One foot in front of the other. One, two, one, two.

She was just trying to keep sane. With nothing more than her thoughts, counting her steps, counting every sound, or watching where the patches of stars claimed the sky. It all kept her mind busy. But her thoughts came dangerously close to distracting her.

And she could think of a hundred things she rather do then think. Because being alone with your thoughts meant a lot of things. It meant remembering the past. The family and friends who were no longer around. It meant recalling the sacrifices you made for others, or the toll those sacrifices took on your soul.

Clarke wasn’t ready to open up that door of the past. So she counted.

She counted the trees (the ones she could see with the weak flashlight she carried in her hand) and her steps. And occasionally she counted the beats in between the crickets and silence that followed. Two seconds was the longest the quiet stretched on.

But with that small space, full of nothing but everlasting silence, she began to think. To hear things of her own. And she hated it.

Every Brocken branch. Every accidental trip or rock that she kicked.

She was absolutely terrified.

She could admit it. She was alone and scared.

How couldn’t she be? She could hardly see five feet in front of her, and she knew that at any given moment infected could come out and grab her.

And if that were to happen, she wasn’t sure she would survive. She was a fighter, and she did know  how to fight. But with the blackness that engulfed her, hiding her from the world, and hiding her enemies, it would mean death.

So she would die.

Alone. Alone while her mother and friends had no idea that she was even gone. They would think she was at Gaia’s. Playing board games or reading absurd adult books or singing off-key to an old album they found in a box.

Kane would know. Gaia would know. But they would expect her to make it. To get to their people and bring them back. They wouldn’t think she died. 

So dying wasn’t an option. At least not for now. She powered on, tightening the straps on her bag and taking her gun in hand, the safety off. She wasn’t going to let the night take her that easily.

And soon, with ease, and still slow and utterly painful, the sun started to rise. The rays coming through the thick leaves, staining her skin with an itchy burn. Hour by hour it got higher, her anxiety lessening just a bit.

One night down. She could do this.

When she reached the nearest town, she stopped at the edge of the road that faded into the forest. In the distance she could see worn out houses, and further in, a few buildings.

Taking a breath in, she gripped her gun, trying to hype herself up for her journey through. “Come on, Clarke, you can do this.”

Making her way through, she paid close attention to her surroundings and the absence of life. Or the dead. The houses blended in, with their broken porches and bashed in doors. Or the cars that were weaved together, some even halfway through the buildings.

Of course there were also the bodies. Some hung outside of their vans and trucks, others were piled in yards. And some were spread out across the ground. Their limbs having ripped apart, sprawled across what used to look like concrete, but now was only a deep red.

Clarke shuddered at the sight, though she didn’t ponder on it to much as she couldn’t stop.

It took her awhile to make it through the small town (as it wasn’t so small when you were travelling on your feet) and eventually she came upon a road block too difficult to climb or walk around. Her only option was the building on the side, half of it also having collapsed into the road. She could see the sign of it. It was a grocery store.

Clarke huffed to herself, annoyed by the small inconvenience, and then started for the opening. It was a small crack, just big enough to be able to squeeze herself through with her bag.

On the other side, it was dark and quiet. Not like the silence that came in the night, or even while she wandered the town. There were no branches or leaves to rustle around. There were no crickets or other animals. It was worse. It was worse because the world never seemed so quiet, and that was terrifying.

But she moved through the aisles that were knocked down, stepping through the weeds that grew through the floor. Climbing over the pillars that crushed the floor. Gripping onto anything she could she she didn’t slip through the holes too deep in the ground.

The building was bigger than she expected, so it took longer to get out. Every time she came up to a window or what use to be a door, she couldn’t push through it. She was close to giving up.

But she couldn’t. No. She wouldn’t.

Her friends were counting on her. Kane was counting on her. She had to.

Clarke’s eyes went from looking around the area to the floor. It was mostly cracked, some parts on an angle while other sections were gone altogether. She wondered what happened. A bomb was the most logical, of course. 

The actual story behind it, though, is what interested her. She thought of what it must have been like. Before everything went to shit. Before everyone was surviving and killing each other.

From a young age she always wanted to know what it was like to live in that time. She imagined herself in an art gallery, staring at the paintings in awe, wanting to have her own work up next to them. She was barely 5 when everything started. She remembered some parts. Like when her parents took her to the beach, and they had gotten ice cream after swimming all day.

Kids were laughing, couples were far too close. Everything had felt good. 

She also remembered her dad tucking her in, and the sounds of the city filled her room, cars rolling by with their music louder than she had liked for a kid wanting to go to bed. Other than that though, she couldn’t remember. Because it only took a day for everything to change.

It all happened so quickly.

Clarke started to pay more attention to her surroundings again, rather than her thoughts. She assumed the building was a bunch of stores connected, with some walls completely knocked down while others weren’t.

Coming up to a hole in the wall, she climbed through, taking in the room before her. It wasn’t too big. Chairs and desks scattered the floor, some knocked over and some still standing. Blood pools with some bodies. One of them had long stringy hair, a mangled green jacket? Black?

It was too bloodied and covered in dirt for Clarke to really see. But what she did notice was a chain. She nudged the dead, waiting a moment to see if it’d move, then crouched down, taking it into her hands.

It was a necklace. A circle with a firefly engraved on one side and a date on the other. Curious as to what it was, she shoved it into her bag and went on to search through some cabinets.

All she found was a knife, that she tucked into her side, a note, and a can of beans. She walked further, the place generally quiet aside from a few infected crawling around the ground. 

At some point the floor above had caved into the first level, blocking her path again. Pulling herself up onto the ledge, Clarke heard the grunt before she was even aware of what was happening. In a split second, she tumbled back down, landing on her bag that didn’t do much to impact her fall.

“Fuck,” she hissed, blinking her eyes back open to see an infected above her. “Oh no.”

With little time to react, the runner was jumping down, screaming as she stumbled to her feet, retreating as fast as possible. 

She ran back in the direction she came from, tightening the straps on her bag and avoiding potholes. The infected never gave up as another, and another, and another joined its friend in chasing her away.

Her chest heaved up and down, the pounding echoing in her head. All she could hear were their screams. They were impossible to block out. She wanted to reach for her gun, to see how much ammo she had. But as she looked back for a brief second, the group had doubled. There were four of them. She would be dead before she even tried shooting.

Instead, she kept going forward, trying to not let the ache in her chest distract her. It hurt. It was ripping her apart, her breathing heavy. But she didn’t let up.

Jumping over a fallen aisle, she noticed a hole in the wall that she missed and threw herself through.

It wasn’t as wide as the entrance she came through, and the wire and bars from inside the concrete crowded her face, leaving a few shallow cuts to her cheeks.

She was nearly there. The clearing so close with the sun shining high in the sky. It was behind the buildings. An alley maybe? She wasn’t sure. As she grabbed the other side of the wall she was being dragged back, her backpack in the hands of one of the infected.

“Get...off me.” She tried to rip herself away, pushing forward but their grip wouldn’t let up. “Fuck you.” Clarke pulled the knife from her side, sinking it into its head.

Quickly pulling herself off, and with its body blocking the hole from the others, she found a dumpster and pushed it over, covering it from the others.

“I hate this shit so much,” she spoke to herself, turning around to take in her surroundings. She was right. It was an alley, concrete walls across from and fences above them. She was locked in. Though climbing wasn’t that hard.

As long as the same thing didn’t happen.

*****

She had been walking for a while. After finding away out and—finally—around her original problem, it was straight forward from there. She spent a good half of the day crossing through bushes, hopping over a various of fallen things (trees, buildings, cars), and talking to herself. It might not have been healthy but it made her feel better. And less alone.

She wished she had someone with her, just to get her through the long stretch of silence. Or through the voices she heard, when she had to hide. Or when she heard an animal. Frankly, it sucked.

It more than sucked, actually. She was wandering through small towns and the forest occasionally on her own, hoping she would eventually reach Sanctum. She pulled her map out every hour or so, making sure she was at least somewhat following the path to get there.

She wasn’t even halfway.

Why’d she think it was closer? Why’d she think this was a good idea? To go on foot? Those questions would bounce around her head, the faces flashing before her eyes in an instance to remind her and answer some of them. 

She just wanted to get to them, to know that they were okay. She needed to know they were. And it wasn’t just her. So many others were close with that group of Runners. They all wanted them back and each of them were getting angry at the fact that Abby wasn’t doing anything about it.

Clarke was just thankful that Kane was on her side. And he would do anything to distract them, to slow down the group that would be sent out, to give Clarke some more time. He’d try his best. She knew that.

But exhaustion was starting to settle in and she knew that at some point she’d have to rest. Though that meant stopping. And stopping meant the potential threat of danger, as no one could watch her back. It also meant that same group that was most definitely already out, would gain some distance on her.

She didn’t want to sleep. But she had to. She did. It was probably better for the others anyways, right? Fighting with the little amount of sleep she had would cause her death, and maybe even the death of friends. 

So she found an old house, blocked all entrances the best she could, and curled up in one of the rooms on the top floor. It wasn’t long before her mind blanked and her eyes shut, sleep taking over.

She was sure she’d be okay. Nothing would happen. She’d be  _ fine _ . 


	3. a lonely road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright so i didn’t get the chapter out before my second semester started like i had planned, but i got busy with a prompt i needed to finish (which you all should totally check out—it’s titanic and clurphy?!) im also working on this a well as some other prompts for the BLM initiative, so much more clurphy will be coming your guys way shortly !! and as for this chapter, i would definitely say it went places i didn’t expect, but i hope you all enjoy anyway <3

It startled her awake. The door slamming, a crash in the distance, tires rolling up on the gravel. Whistles echoing through the air. Then the yelling. The screams. Everything happened so quickly, with little room for Clarke to become aware of what was going on. 

She wasn’t sure how long she slept but as she peered through the window, she could see the sun just over the horizon. Early morning. Maybe six. She wasn’t too sure.

Most importantly though, she saw the group of men. Fighting off the infected. Ramming their weapons into their heads, shooting at the clickers that came out of nowhere. Parking their cars and jumping out. Clarke noticed a symbol on the side of the truck. She couldn’t recognize it.

Beyond the screams of the infected, she could hear the men shouting, “get out here!”

The door. The crash.

Someone was in the house with her. 

Clarke jumped from her spot, blinking the sleep away as best as she could and began to collect her things, shoving them back into her bag. Then she made sure she had everything. Gun. Knife. Map. Ammo.

Clarke could hear them rummaging around below her, searching through drawers and whispering to themselves.

She decided to open the door up just a crack, the stairs on the same wall as the room. The entrance she had come in the night before was now covered by the couch, instead of the large cabinet she had put there.

The sounds then became distant, too far to hear.

Clarke made a plan. When it was clear, she would open the door, run across the hall, and jump out the back. Whatever she had to do to steer clear of the group in the front and the unwanted visitor. It was all she could do, as staying in that room would be a sure cause for death.

With a small breath, she risked it. She placed her hands on the door, squeezed herself through a big enough gap and crossed the way, tiptoeing so she wouldn’t disturb whoever was below her.

Her heart was pounding in her ears, it so much louder than the noises on the outside. And her body, heated with anxiety, left sweat lining her jacket. Why did the hallway feel so much longer than it looked? It hadn’t been this long right? Was this the adrenaline? It was years and yet still only seconds when she reached for the handle, pushing lightly on the frame with her other hand.

Once it was open enough, she went through, closed it again and rushed to the window. There wasn’t much there. A small backyard connected with all the others, closed in by one long wooden fence. Kids' toys were spread across the dead grass, lawn chairs and tables too.

“Search every house, I want him found!” She whipped her head around. The voices seemed closer. She only had one chance.

Clarke opened the window and swung her leg over the frame. She was faced with the height now, her stomach suddenly dropping. She had to do this. It was the only way. With every passing second that she debated it, her death came a little closer.

She knew this was a possibility. It was a thought that lingered in the back of her head as she had fallen asleep the previous night. She hoped nothing would happen, that she would wake up on her own and head out.

But luck wasn’t on her side. It never seemed to be these days. Of course she would wake up to a bunch of men with guns searching through the line of houses she was in. Of course that was how her morning would go.

She couldn’t complain now though, because as she stared over the edge, her mind running wild with everything she already thought of, the men were nearing. Closing in on her and the person inside the house.

Clarke let out a shaky breath and gripped the frame, knuckles turning white, and swung her other leg over. She continued to lower herself as much as possible, until her arms couldn’t stretch anymore, and let go.

“Ah, fuck.” She tumbled to the ground, feet landing and giving out immediately, causing her head to bounce off the bit of pavement underneath. Somehow she had missed that.

She blinked the world back into vision, but not without it becoming a blur. Trying to shake it off, ignoring the blood that was dripping down the side of her face. She rolled over onto her stomach.

The fence was right there.

She stood up, falling right back down on her ass. Clarke shook her head again, trying to get her vision back, “come on, not now, please.”

She stood again, longer this time. And took a step forward.

The men were getting closer, searching for the man who was most definitely in that same house Clarke left. The blood kept climbing down her cheek, the fence becoming more visible as the initial pain wore off. She could do this. She knew she could. Only a little longer. She would get out and she could bandage herself up, finish her trip to Sanctum. She was capable of that.

She took another step. Head still spinning, more infected screaming in the distance. This time she couldn’t tell which direction it was coming from, but it was there. And it was loud. It was so, so loud. And the sun, when did it get so bright?

Clarke kept moving, making it to the fence, the finish line finally there, finally within arms reach. As she went to grab the top, fingertips barely brushing over the rotting wood, she was pulled back. A man's hand, covered in hair, dragging her away.

She struggled against his hold, kicking out at him. She wanted to scream but couldn’t. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m not one of them.”

That didn’t calm Clarke’s nerves though, she just kept squirming, attempting to getaway. But he wouldn’t budge. The man was far too strong for her. “They will kill you, no hesitation. So don’t make a noise.”

She didn’t want to trust the man. She didn’t know him and his attentions, he could be lying. But as the other men continued to search, some walking right by the two, Clarke relaxed.

They waited a little longer, as one more passed by before the man spoke.

“Look,” he pulled his hand away, turning so they were face to face, “I am no threat to you, these men have been after me for days now. They think I have something that I don’t.”

He paused and checked through the bushes. Clarke took a second, looking at him carefully. She noticed his brown hair, stubbly beard and bloodied clothes. As well as a bag of his own. 

He faced her again. “I don’t know you’re story, but, if you need a place to stay, I have a camp. I promise you it’s safe, just let me take care of these men, alright?”

Clarke hesitated, the silence growing around them, only being broken by the footsteps of the others. She nodded.

He smiled, and left in a quick motion, sneaking down the furthest side of the fence they were near.

Taking a deep breath, Clarke watched the man come up being the others and take him down. He still had a few more, which gave her enough time to getaway.

And she didn’t hesitate this time. Clarke pushed through the bush and ran right for the fence again. She grabbed it and pulled herself up, dropping down on the other side. She made a break for it as she heard the men fighting. Gunshots, screaming, infected.

She didn’t stop for the ones that came out of hiding, that lurched forwards and tried to rip her away by her jacket. She only powered forward, legs aching as she hopped over wooden boards, and climbed through windows. 

She needed to make it out. Get out of that neighbourhood, find somewhere to camp out until she could gather herself together, and get back in route. 

Clarke wasn’t going to stop to pull out her map, to make sure she was heading towards Sanctum. All she could concentrate on was escaping. Escaping the cries of dying men and the screeches of clickers as their faceless bodies chased after her. The pounding steps of the runners coming out of houses. 

Her thoughts were blank, nothing. She couldn’t do anything but look forward, taking in the site as she ran. There was no time for thinking because thinking meant decisions which meant hesitation and hesitation meant death. And Clarke couldn’t afford death, not with her friends' lives on the line. 

So she kept moving, purely concentrating on it. On the burn running from her calves to her thighs. On the movement of her bag as she ran, sprinting as far and fast as possible. That’s all she could do. Keep moving. Keep moving. Keep. Moving. 

It wasn’t long before a building with heavily overgrown shrubs came into view. The street surrounding it was filled with cars, some in a wreck. 

Clarke jumped over a barrier gate and tried going for one of the doors, luck finally being on her side. It swung open and she shoved herself in, blocking the entrance right away with a nearby set of chairs. 

As she looked around, she noticed it was a theatre. Not too large. Some concession stands and thrown away garbage littered the large room. Clarkes eye caught a ray of sun and followed it up to the ceiling where there was a hole. 

Interrupted by a large crash, Clarke jumped at the sudden banging against the door. The walkers had caught up, attempting to bash their way through. They were unsuccessful. 

After a few minutes of calming herself down and trying to catch her breath, she went off, searching the building. She wanted to make sure she was alone before making her next move. 

The last thing she needed was there to be infected in the building, as well as outside.

*****

The one thing about the end of the world was that it sucked. That was a given. But days turned to night in a blink of an eye. People came and go. Death haunted you every day. There was no escape. 

It was an endless cycle. Every day looked the same. Survive. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. And most days eating and sleeping wasn’t even an option. It was a luxury. It was the goddamn lottery to be able to sleep in a bed, knowing you’ll wake up with food ready, even if it was only a bit of it. 

But those days never came all that often. With Bellamy and Murphy on runs most of the time, and getting themselves caught up in trouble. Some days they didn’t eat. They didn’t sleep. It was just surviving. Filled with anger and disgust as you tried to protect the people you love. And some days those very emotions blinded you from the personal needs. 

That’s exactly how it was going at the moment. 

It had been hours. Hours of searching and coming up with nothing, only moving forward and hoping they would come across their friends eventually. 

Murphy was tired. He hadn’t eaten, his legs were throbbing with each step. Lying down and letting the exhaustion take over sounded pretty good, but he knew he couldn’t do that. Even if he was alone, he wouldn’t. 

Murphy glanced towards Bellamy. His shoulders were slumped and his feet dragging across the ground. 

He was worried sick, both for his sister and Gabriel. They were everything he cared about. More than anyone. And his anger was so high at that moment that Murphy was certain he would snap. 

So he kept quiet. Not wanting to disturb him, and walked. His gun in hand, bag strapped to his back. The towns they passed through all looked the same. Shattered glass. Piles of bodies. Infected. It was all the same. Moss taking over cars, trees growing through windows. Mother Nature taking back what was hers. 

It was beautiful. Even in the things that sucked. In the world that gave them nothing but the worse, it was amazing to see how everything grew around what humans had built. Wrapping itself around every part of what they had once had. 

Sure, it was saddening too. But what could you do? Sometimes you had to look past all of the bad things, and for a split second, see the beauty in it all. It wasn’t often Murphy did that, but when he did, he could finally see how amazing it was. 

Nature had been something his mother loved when he was younger. She enjoyed going for hikes, with her father holding her hand and a little Murphy running ahead. Trees on either side of him, with the sun high in the sky. 

He never grew to love nature as she had. It was a place to escape, to relax from your day job. To sit in the fields and think. That’s what it was like for her, but not Murphy. It was where he ran, starved, killed. It was where people died. Where everything was taken away from him. The forest brought him pain. 

He wished he got a warning as a kid. Not that he would have understood because of how young he was, but he still wished there was someone who could’ve warned him of the life he’d have. 

If he had, maybe he would’ve laughed a little harder, or played outside longer. He would have asked to watch more movies with his parents. 

He would’ve spent a lot more time with his family. He wished he could take back everything, just to let his parents know he loved them.

But he couldn’t, so he had to live with what he did. 

Bellamy then broke the silence, “something doesn’t add up.”

“Huh?”

“We know it was Dax and Graham. You already put those pieces together, but why? What did Sanctum offer to make them give up the camp’s location?” Bellamy wondered. He had a good point. Just knowing that they betrayed them wasn’t good enough. Dax and Graham, though it was very much in fashion for them to do it, they needed a reason to. Everything they did was to benefit themselves. 

Murphy shrugged, “who knows, but I’m not that surprised. They would turn all of us in for a granola bar.”

Bellamy sighed because Murphy was right. It was likely they traded their best man to Sanctum for a meal. Until they got there, though, it would be a mystery. 

“I just...why Gabriel. Sanctum tossed him out like garbage, now they want him back? And Dax and Graham somehow are in on it. It pisses me off not knowing.” Bellamy replied, running his hand through his hair. 

“I get it,” Murphy didn’t know if he should reason with Bellamy or give him a straight answer. Though he wasn’t sure about the whole thing himself. Gabriel had been one of Sanctum’s top guys. With knowing everything he did in the science field. But he was thrown out because he wouldn’t cooperate with them and the things they did. That’s when he found The Reapers, and after looking into him, and being cautious, they let him into the group. 

Since then, he has become close with just about everyone. Octavia was like his sister, Bellamy a little more than that. He loved talking to Jasper and Monty and occasionally, was alright with Murphy. 

“We’ll get him back though, alright. And Octavia and Jasper. There’s a reason we are always sent out for these types of things. It’s what we’re best at,” Murphy reminded him. 

Bellamy looked at his feet, his boots worn out from all the walking and running they did. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Maybe? I always am,” Murphy joked, pulling on a smirk. Bellamy shot him a look but smiled anyway. He was grateful that Murphy was still able to make him feel a bit better in times like those, even if that wasn’t a very Murphy thing to do. 

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, walking in unison through the dense forest. Birds chirped while the soft crunch of the leaves under their feet was booming inside his head. Murphy often found himself getting lost in the sound. Sometimes it was leaves and other times it was sticks. Or gravel, or mud. 

He generally got distracted when on runs, which far too often caused trouble. But he could snap out of it just as quickly when he wanted to. 

Murphy was still staring at the brown leaves when something appeared in his peripheral vision. A sign. Red letters with the paint dripping down the wall, spray-paint cans sprawled across the ground. 2 miles east. The handwriting. It looked familiar. But he couldn’t tell whose it was. “Bellamy, look.”

Bellamy turned, examining it for a few moments. Longer than Murphy expected, but when he spoke up, a small bit of hope sprang into his chest. “Jasper. That’s Jasper’s writing.”

This was it. This was another step closer to their friends, to knowing they were safe. After hours of searching, walking along paths and roads and fields, coming up with nothing. Finally a hint, a lead. 

Murphy laughed. 

Nothing was funny, though it felt right because it was the only form of emotion he could get out. Something about getting an official answer, an official sign was hysterical. Murphy was sure he was losing his mind. 

Then Bellamy joined him. Laughing and shaking his head. “God, they’re alive. Fuck.”

Murphy walked up to the wall, looked down the train tracks next to them, then glanced back to Bellamy. “It shouldn’t take us too long. And if they are leaving hints, that means that they figured it out. And they knew we would come after them. They probably slowed down. Close the gap between us.”

Bellamy nodded, a vibrant smile on his face despite the situation. He was glad that they finally found something, but soon dropped his grin in favour of a more serious expression when he got thinking again. “Right, so we better start going. Even with this, we don’t know if Dax or Graham are planning on doing anything, or if they are in contact with Sanctum still.”

“Yeah, but the others would notice. I mean they can’t just walk off and go speak to someone.”

“They have their ways,” Bellamy mentioned, narrowing his eyes. Murphy agreed and they were off again. This time heading down the tracks, eyes open and guns ready. If they had to, they’d shoot. 

But Murphy was hoping it wouldn’t come to that. Surprisingly. If he had it his way, he would let Bellamy do whatever he wanted to the guys. Let him tear them apart, rip into them like an animal. On the other hand, he also knew that was a bad idea because that wasn’t Bellamy. He would maybe hit them a few times and call it a day. Knowing that if he did anything more he would regret it. 

Then there was also the fact that Octavia and Jasper were there too. And they didn’t need to see him like that, nor would Octavia like it. So, Murphy knew he was better off staying out of it entirely. 

He planned, in his head, that when they found the group (if they did in time) he would stay back until needed. Until one of them gave him permission and then he would start. Maybe he’d fight them, maybe he’d kill them. He wasn’t sure. But regardless, it wasn’t his place and he knew that, so unless he was told to do something, he’d stay silent. Not moving. 

He didn’t dwell on it any longer and thought of something else. The trees, cloudy sky, the moss-covered rocks. His eyes wandered the forest, picking things out to look at where he could. 

It took a while for them to reach another town. It was fairly small, only containing a grocery store, gas station, a church, a few houses and another few small stores. 

One thing that stood out to Murphy, though, wasn’t the bodies or the blood. It wasn’t the trucks and cars rammed into the houses. It was the silence. It was way too quiet. Not even the sound of the infected could be heard, and that scared Murphy more than if they were there. 

But he brushed it off in an attempt to keep his mind on the plan. That’s all that mattered. Get to Octavia and Jasper, make sure they were safe, and then get Gabriel back. All without dying, of course. That would be a bonus. 

There was also another problem that popped into his head. One that he somehow missed during this whole mess. The Primes knew where they were camping out now. They knew about every trap, every fence, every road. None of that would work anymore, and that meant they needed to move again. Find a new place to build a camp, deep inside the forest. 

Nothing would compare to the one they had already, but a camp wasn’t worth their lives. They would have to leave, pack up all their things, take their friends and family and get out. 

That idea sucked. Murphy liked that camp. He liked his bed and the posters on his wall. He liked the comics he owned or the old gaming system he found that hardly worked with the limited electricity they had. 

So it sucked. A lot. But Murphy wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. He couldn’t control the world or other's decisions, even if he wanted to. 

Though he could hardly control his own decisions, or more so the lack of them, considering he had once again got too caught up in his thoughts to notice the sniper in a far window. It was already too late before Bellamy noticed as well, and it resulted in Murphy falling to the ground, groaning in pain as he held his shoulder. 

“That fucker shot me,” he barked out at nothing in particular. Bellamy pulled him off to the side, next to a two-story house. 

“Shit. They got you good.” 

Murphy’s eyes fell on it. His left shoulder. He was lucky it wasn’t his dominant arm, but it still hurt like hell. No matter how many times he got shot or stabbed, the pain never got easy (and he got hurt a lot).

“You think?” Murphy hissed. Leaning forward, he pulled his bag off carefully, closing his eyes as he stretched his arm out a little too much. “Okay, Monty shoved some of that wrap stuff that goes on wounds in my bag.”

Bellamy gave him a blank stare. “You mean bandages?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Murphy thrust his bag into Bellamy’s hand who started rummaging through it immediately. He pulled out cans of food, water bottles, and ammo before he was able to find it. 

“Okay,” he started, shoving everything back in. “Take your jacket and shirt off.”

“You see, I would but I was shot and it hurts,” Murphy said sarcastically, looking at Bellamy with hooded eyes. The blood was seeping through his fingers, covering his shirt. 

“Haha, real funny, I don’t care. Now come here.” He started to rip Murphy’s jacket off for him, his shirt coming off right after. Bellamy cleaned off as much blood as he could, applied a piece of a ripped up shirt to the wound and wrapped it. His hands shook, and he ducked when another shot rang out, just as loud as the first, but shot at nothing. The shooter was making themselves known, reminding the boys that they were still there. 

“If Octavia and Jasper went through here, they might not have made it out,” Bellamy muttered, his sister still on his mind. Murphy huffed. He knew where this was going and he wasn’t fond of the idea. Especially after getting shot, he just wanted to get out alive. 

Bellamy had other plans. Just as Murphy had thought. “We have to check these houses...the stores. They might be here. They might have gotten shot.”

“They’re probably fine, let’s get out of here while we can,” Murphy argued, not up for the hunt. Searching houses was boring. It was also annoying when you are going from one building to the next with the knowledge that someone is watching you. And that you can very easily get shot or killed. 

“No. Just to be careful. We have to.” Bellamy wasn’t giving up. He wouldn’t. Murphy knew that. 

Sighing, Murphy nudged Bellamy away from him and reached for his bag to sling over his shoulder. He hated this as much as he hated it every time Bellamy said they should do something of the sort. Just to be safe, you know. Unfortunately, he cared for the idiot and his sister. And also the rest of his friends, so he gave in. 

“Fine, get up. But we’re making it quick because I prefer not getting shot again.”

Bellamy watched Murphy carefully, lips curling into his cheeks. He knew there was a reason Murphy was his best friend. “Okay, we will be. We already scoped out half of the town, just a few more buildings. Then we can take him out and find the others. Got it?”

Murphy shrugged his bag onto his other arm,grimacing as he did so. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let’s get this over with.” 

Bellamy smiled once more and then they snuck around the back of the house, checking it out and then moving on. Store from store, killing no infected, but fear growing strong as they neared the house the sniper was in. 

The shots kept coming, one every few minutes. The yelling came next. Shouting at them that if they tried to come any closer, he would kill them. Murphy didn’t take that lightly. His shoulder was throbbing and he had much rather not get a bullet through his head too. 

It didn’t take long for them to carefully search the rest of the buildings. The thing was that they both had the fear of getting shot (again for Murphy). Bellamy was also thinking about Octavia. About Gabriel. Each of them had their own fears and worries while they squatted below the house on the hill. 

The sniper was above them, sitting peacefully in the window. Murphy wanted to strangle him for making their journey harder. Also, again for shooting him. He wasn’t going to give that up. “Let’s go.”

They headed inside and went directly upstairs. Murphy held his breath a little harder with every step, hoping that they wouldn’t creak. 

He had been through a lot of scary situations during his time in the apocalypse. It was his entire life, so of course he had experienced some downright terrifying things, but this one was slightly different. A lot was on the line. Their friends, both in Sanctum, on the way there, and back at camp, were depending on them.

If they didn’t reach Sanctum, or at least get to Dax and Graham, that could mean the death of their closest friends and family. That would lead to the death of Gabriel, and then, after that, everyone else would die. The people of Sanctum would find their way back to their camp and kill all of them. He didn’t doubt that for a second after the years of war between the groups.

So yeah, pretty much everything fell onto their shoulders at that given moment. One wrong move and it was all over. Their lives over just like that.

Murphy reached the top step and peered into the closest room. Bullet shells covered the ground, a bag on the right. All the furniture was pushed off to the side with one singular chair placed in the centre, in front of the window, where the man sat. He shot again.

Murphy stilled. How would he do this? Should he kill him? Or should he just put him in a choke-hold so they can get answers out of him? He cursed himself. Bellamy should have gone first. He knew what to do in these situations. He also didn’t have a bullet lodged in his shoulder that would bleed more with every touch from his gun.

He blinked a few times and went with his instincts.

He snuck inside the room, Bellamy right behind him. Okay, you can do this. Murphy wrapped his arm around the guy, kicking out the chair from beneath him and dragging him to the ground. Bellamy leaned forward, ripping something off him. It was a necklace. An infinity symbol on the front. He was from Sanctum.

“Why did your people come back for Gabriel?” That was the first thing Bellamy asked. He went on to ask about Octavia, if he saw her and the others, where they went. Murphy was silently praying that he would hurry up. The man's head was dug into his shoulder. He wanted to scream at the amount of pain he was in, but he didn’t let go. He was hoping to get something out of it at the end.

“Alright, good. Now once more. Why did they take Gabriel?”

“Look man, I already told you about your friends. That’s all I’m saying.” Bellamy had already been losing control since camp. Everything that had happened was a rollercoaster and Murphy could see the downfall coming.

“Fine,” Bellamy sneered, then gestured to Murphy to put him on his knees. He hesitated at first, eyeing Bellamy, trying to say that he wanted this, without actually saying it. “Murphy.”

Rolling his eyes, Murphy pushed the guy down, letting him go but grabbing his gun. “You’ve made your choice.”

Bellamy spent the next five minutes bringing his gun up and back down, connecting it to his face. Blood spewed across the walls, their feet, and their faces too. He was practically out of it when he got down to eye level with the guy, saying one last thing before he finished it. “This could have gone differently had you cooperated. I’m sorry you didn’t.”

Then he put his gun to the man's head and pulled the trigger. Silence followed. The overwhelming quietness that came with that godforsaken town. Then Murphy ruined the moment as always.

“Man, I wanted to do that.”

Bellamy tilted his head up, mouth hung open and brows furrowed, “you need serious help.”  


“I would but therapy is expensive,” Murphy responded, smirking at him. He kind of wished the gory stuff affected him like it did at the beginning, but he saw so much of it that, unless it was someone he knew, it didn’t phase him.

“I hate you.”

“Sure you do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> murphy getting shot definitely was not something not what i originally had planned, but sometimes chapters write themselves !! i hope you all enjoyed, feedback and comments would be appreciated <3


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